Even better: Maybe this unexpected trip would change everything.
“Believe it,” he told her.
“I first met Callie when she began her training at the library,” he told the camerawoman-cum-interviewer. “Next Thursday, we will have known each other for precisely seven months.”
Callie’s gaze whipped to his. “That’s…” She paused, and her lips moved as she did some mental math. “That’s right.”
For some reason, she sounded befuddled. Which befuddled him in turn, because how could he forget the day of her arrival at CMRL? How could anyone?
Maybe the preparations for the trip to Parrot Cay had tired her. He could understand that. His past several days had been a whirlwind of filling out applications and releases and waivers, followed by haphazard packing and emergency purchases of sunscreen and swim trunks. And despite all the hubbub, he’d still spent each night awake and wondering. Hoping.
Planning.
So he could empathize with any exhaustion she was experiencing. Although, to be fair, he’d never taken such a comfortable trip before, and he likely never would again. First-class tickets didn’t come cheaply enough for a man still paying off his student loans.
The seats had been wide and well-cushioned, the leg room generous, the movie choices endless. But the best part of the whole experience, by far: seeing Callie’s face illuminate when the flight attendant had handed them menus, and she’d realized their tickets had bought them a three-course meal. A delicious one, at that.
“I love red snapper and plantains,” she’d whispered to him, those coffee-brown eyes wide. “And I’m going to dive headfirst into the key lime mousse.”
Scratch that. The best part of the journey was watching her take her first bite of that tart-sweet mousse, her eyes scrunched closed and her lips curved in pleasure.
Or possibly when she’d finished her second glass of champagne and giggled at him for the first time in months when he’d noted the inadvisability of reading a book about Amelia Earhart’s fate while they were traveling in an airplane.
Or maybe when, as they’d skipped over waves on the ferry ride to Parrot Cay, she’d managed to stop him from falling overboard by hauling his body against hers.
He’d been watching her, as usual, admiring how the sun limned strands of her wind-whipped hair with fire. In the midst of such intense concentration, though, he hadn’t noticed the rather large swell approaching the small vessel or braced himself for the impact.
So she’d saved him. And for several glorious moments, he’d been pressed against her, face to face, her warmth to his heat. The softness of her breasts and belly fit into the contours of his body like connecting puzzle pieces. That glorious brown hair lashed against his face in the ocean breeze, the sting more than welcome. Her strong arms held him in a steady, firm grip. And her flowery fragrance surrounded him. Intoxicated him.
Then she’d let him go in a hurry, and he’d chosen to sit on the deck for the rest of the ferry ride instead of testing his overwhelmed senses further.
Upon their arrival at Parrot Cay, they’d been greeted at the dock by HATV crew members—including Gladys, their episode’s producer—and ushered into a generic meeting room inside the private island’s enormous, pristine hotel. The small crew had already prepared the room for the interview, setting two chairs cozily next to one another in front of the cameras and beneath the boom mic.
Callie was sitting mere centimeters away from him, her thigh warm beneath her gauzy skirt. And he knew the heat of that thigh intimately, since it was touching his. The scent of flowers had faded at some point. She now smelled like sunscreen and sweat, his new favorite fragrance.
All in all, this trip was already one of the highlights of his life, and they hadn’t even posed for pictures as a couple yet. He had high hopes for the afternoon.
The camerawoman checked the next question on her list. “Tell us what first attracted you to Callie.”
This interview was only supposed to take a few minutes, since they needed to check into their rooms and take a guided tour of the island before sunset. That question alone could occupy the rest of their time on Parrot Cay, however.
Where to start? And how to say it succinctly?
“Her face,” he told the camerawoman, and then paused. “I noticed her face.”
Apparently he’d been too succinct. Because after a moment of silence, Callie stifled another giggle, and Gladys rolled her eyes.
“Care to elaborate?” the camerawoman asked.
Well, if HATV wanted to know more, he was happy to tell them.
“First of all, she’s obviously gorgeous.” He swept a hand in Callie’s direction, vaguely aware that her giggles had come to an abrupt stop. “So of course I appreciated that. Anyone would.”
He wouldn’t expound on the lushness of her body to the world, because he didn’t want to embarrass her. But only a fool would look at her ample curves—solidity and softness combined into a form that stopped his breath—and fail to appreciate that kind of beauty.
“But it’s more than that. Her face…” He tried to put all he’d seen, all he’d worshipped, into words. “Her face changes. When she’s happy, it’s open and bright enough to blind me. When she’s upset, everything shutters. And when she’s angry, her brows lower, her eyes narrow, and she could stop the tides with a single look.”
Those thick, dark brows of hers said everything. Everything.
